


Behind Every Great Man

by anubislover



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Pre-Canon, Royalty, Rumors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 03:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13068060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anubislover/pseuds/anubislover
Summary: …there's a great woman telling him what to do. Fili and Kili's latest playtime antics bring to light just what role Dís plays in her brother's life.(Originally published on FF.net)





	Behind Every Great Man

**Author's Note:**

> I'd originally published this on Fanfiction.net a few years ago, but I've decided to cross-post it here, with some corrections and updates.

The sun had almost fully set as Thorin Oakenshield trudged home. It had been a long day. Twelve new orders for hand-axes had come in from the nearby human town, and it had been up to him to make sure that every one of them was adequately forged, sharpened, and priced. There had also been some issues regarding the mines, as well as the weekly report concerning whether or not any wargs had been seen in the area. Then there was the unrest among the elder council…

Well, that had been the worst part of the day. Once again, the elder dwarves, those who had been great lords in Erebor, were complaining about the settlement. They complained about everything; the ore in the mines was flimsy compared to that in the Lonely Mountain. The respectable stone houses that had been built were too small and drafty. The meat the farmers had raised and hunted was not nearly as succulent as that of Dale. Thorin did his best to reason with them and assure them that the Blue Mountains were, in fact, a worthy home, but it was never enough for them. Their constant disapproval of his leadership, no matter how nit-picky, was becoming the greatest thorn in his side.

Responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders, but Thorin was not the sort to let his people down. So he’d inspected every ax, settled the arguments in the mines, read the reports, and done his best to appease the elders. Still, it didn’t feel like it was enough, and he knew he’d once again spend the night staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep due to the constant troubles on his mind.

Finally, just as darkness finally settled over the roads, he arrived at his house. Well, it wasn’t his house, really. It was his sister’s, but he’d been living with her ever since the unfortunate death of her husband. He’d actually insisted on it, as he had no wish for Dís to live alone and raise his nephews without some sort of help. Unfortunately, he’d been so busy over the past few weeks he hadn’t been able to spend as much time with them as he’d like. His people came first. 

Yet despite the overwhelming amount of work he'd been saddled with and the worries that kept him up at night, things had actually been slightly easier over the past few weeks. Smaller problems he normally would have been forced to deal with, particularly trade disputes, seemed to be sorting themselves out. Just today he had heard of a quarrel between the butcher and the tavern owner over the price of beef, but by the time he’d gotten there it had all been settled. Perhaps his luck was changing. After all, this was the third time this week he was actually going to be home in time for supper.

As he opened the door, the first thing that greeted him was warmth and light. The house was slightly larger than most, made of the best stone and wood the mountain provided. It was no castle, but it was a good house, one he’d happily helped his sister and brother-in-law build so many years ago. The second was the smell of the delicious stew Dís had likely spent the better part of the day preparing. Remembering his sister, he quickly removed his boots. She hated it when he tracked mud in her house, and with Fili and Kili making a habit of copying everything their uncle did, it was even more strictly enforced. Thirdly, as he walked down the hall, he was greeted by the sound of his young nephews playing loudly in the sitting room. The door was slightly ajar, and he paused for a moment to enjoy the carefree giggles of his heirs.

Despite his weariness, he felt the corners of his mouth lift ever-so-slightly. Fili and Kili rarely did anything quietly, whether it be playing, training, or doing their chores. From the sound of it, the two were creating an epic battle with their little wooden figurines. He could hear the two commanding their armies; Fili likely leading the dwarves, while Kili attempted to overpower him with the various goblins, orcs, and wargs they had amassed over the years.

“You’ll never get away with this, Goblin King!” he heard Fili call out. Thorin smiled a bit wider. Fili was obviously attempting to sound imposing, but while his voice was finally beginning to change from child to adult, it was still far from the deep, commanding tone he was trying to imitate.

“Raahhh! You’re a fool, Thorin!” That was obviously Kili, and Thorin literally had to cover his mouth to suppress his chuckles. No matter how hard his youngest nephew tried, there was no chance of him making the Goblin King sound threatening with that voice. “I take what I want, and you can’t stop me!”

“I was wondering if you’d be back in time for supper,” came a voice by his ear.

He turned and smiled at Dís. “I apologize. Today was rather eventful.”

“I’m sure it was. Balin stopped by and told me you had a meeting with the elders.” She frowned in concern. “What were they going on about this time?”

He sighed. “The usual. The ore in the mountain is brittle and poor, the humans aren’t respecting us the way they should be, my leadership is unacceptable. Nothing I haven’t heard from them before.”

Her face darkened. “Those miserable old fools don’t understand what real leadership is!”

Though he was too proud to admit it, it was nice to see someone on his side for once. “I take it your day has gone well?”

“Well enough. The marketplace was busy as usual, but the boys were preoccupied enough with Bifur and Bofur’s toy store that I was able to get things done on my own without worrying about losing them.”

A loud battle-cry came from the doorway. “Sounds like quite a skirmish today,” he chuckled.

She returned the grin. “They’ve been at it since we got back. Apparently Bofur made them a new figure, but they’ve been very secretive about it. They wouldn’t even let me see it before they ran into the room and started the latest war.”

“But they’ve been behaving themselves?”

“Are you doubting my ability to control my own sons, Thorin?” she teased.

This time he did laugh. “My dear sister, you’re a beacon of strength among us all, but I doubt even Durin himself could control those two.”

She cuffed him a bit, but joined his laughter. Opening the door, she called, “Boys! Supper’s almost ready!”

The two dwarflings looked up from their spots on the floor. The sitting room had certainly become a war zone. Wooden dwarves and goblins alike lay scattered across the rug, obvious casualties of an intense battle. Fili was holding an elaborately painted dwarven warrior, while Kili was balancing the most grotesque figure they owned atop a wooden chair.

“Can’t it wait?” Fili cried. “Uncle Thorin’s about to confront the Goblin King!”

Thorin smirked. On the boy’s insistence, Bifur and Bofur had made them a figurine of himself, which had quickly become their most coveted toy. Even he had to admit it was rather impressive. The two toymakers had obviously outdone themselves. His armor was intricately detailed, his oaken shield was clutched in his tiny hand, and they’d even included a few grey streaks in his hair. Apparently, a few of the other dwarven children were now demanding their own versions, with Bofur joking that the history books would someday say his legacy was a line of toys, not the settlement of the Blue Mountains.

Dís did her best to remain serious, but Thorin could see the humor in her eyes. “I’m sure your uncle’s epic clash can wait until after dinner.”

“No it can’t!” Kili squeaked. “He needs to win this battle before it’s too late!”

Fili nodded solemnly, which was certainly quite the sight coming from a child. “It’s a matter of utmost importance.”

Thorin and Dís glanced at each other. To a child, every game was of grave importance. How often had they said the same thing whilst playing in the halls of Erebor, forsaking meals so that they could finish a game of tag, or win a battle with their toys of gold? As much as Dís wanted to scold them and threaten them with a cold supper and early bedtime, they both knew that she wanted them to have the childhood that have been cruelly snatched from herself and her brothers.

Still, she wasn’t going to make it that easy, otherwise they’d never respect her authority again. Crossing her arms, she met their serious frowns with a level stare. “And what,” she said calmly, “is Thorin fighting over that is worth a cold meal?”

It was Kili who answered excitedly. “He’s rescuing you, Mama!”

That caught both brother and sister off-guard. “Me?”

Kili grabbed a figurine from its place upon the chair before running over and shoving it into his mother’s face. Carefully, she took the toy and inspected it before showing it to Thorin. It was a miniature replica if the woman beside him. Her hair was a dark brown, but he could see little flecks of silver that were meant to represent the beads she wore in her hair. She wasn’t dressed in outrageous finery, but her clothes were painted a rich, royal shade of blue, much like his own figure. She held a sword, and her expression was one he had seen several times; calm, but prepared for anything that might come for her. Bifur and Bofur must have put an extraordinary amount of time and effort into it.

Thorin handed the toy back. “I’ve never seen this one before.”

“We just got it today! We asked Mr. Bofur to make it, but it took him ages! Like, a whole month!” Kili said, eagerly putting the figure back on the chair.

“So, this is what the war is about?” Dís asked. She was both surprised and flattered that her sons had wanted a figure of her.

Fili nodded again, crossing his arms and giving his best imitation of Thorin, though his golden hair and round and beardless face kind of ruined the illusion. “The Goblin King kidnapped you, so Thorin has to get you back.”

“Why would a goblin kidnap your mother?” Thorin asked, eyebrow raised.

“And what makes you think I’d let any goblin, even the Goblin King, kidnap me?”

Fili and Kili looked at each other, as if questioning how grown-ups could be so clueless. “He kidnapped you because you’re so pretty,” Kili said.

“And you didn’t go without a fight.” Fili pointed to a pile of goblin figures. “Those are the ones you killed in their attempt. It took twice that many to finally capture you.”

Dís couldn’t quite keep the pride out of her voice. “Well, I suppose that makes sense. I’m not some damsel in distress, you know.”

“We know!” the boys chimed.

“Mister Balin told us about how you fought off a warg single-handedly while walking in the woods!”

“And Mister Dwalin said that he’s never seen an orc scarier than you when you’re mad.”

Thorin nearly choked on his own laughter. Oh, Dwalin was going to catch hell from Dís next time he was unfortunate enough to run into her. He briefly wondered if he should warn the poor man.

Dís smacked him on the back, smiling ever-so-sweetly when he glared at her. She turned to the boys. “So, I got captured, and Thorin has to save me, hmm?”

They nodded. “It was easy to rally the troops. None of them wanted to see you married to the icky Goblin King.”

However childish it was, Thorin could see their logic. No soldier of his would stand for a dwarf marrying a goblin, especially not their princess.

“Yup! And now he has to confront him before you become Goblin Queen, ‘cause once you’re married, you can’t be Thorin’s Queen anymore!”

Again, Dís and Thorin had to pause. “‘Thorin’s Queen?’”

“That’s what Mister Bofur said she is. He said that everyone calls her that.”

Dís simply nodded mutely, not sure how to respond to that declaration. Thorin was equally confused. “They really call her my queen?”

“Yes.” The dwarflings stared at them pleadingly. “Now can we finish the battle? We don’t want a Goblin for a daddy!”

Dís managed to clear away her shock. She studied them for a long moment before giving a playful sigh and nodding. “All right; I suppose since it’s for a good cause, you can finish, but make it short.” She smiled slyly. “In fact, you should have Thorin challenge the Goblin King to single combat. That way, no more dwarven soldiers will get hurt. I’d hate to see good men lay down their lives for my sake.”

Her sons nodded eagerly, grateful for the extra play time, and the epic finale to their game. Who knew their mama was so clever?

“Goblin King!” Fili yelled as deeply as he could in what was likely supposed to be an imitation of Thorin, but his squeaky voice couldn’t match the deep baritone of his uncle. “I challenge you to single combat! If I win, you give me back my sister!”

“Grrr!” Kili replied. “I accept!”

With that, the two clashed in what, in the mind of a child, was the most epic and bloody duel in the history of Middle-Earth. To the grown-ups, it just looked like two toys being knocked against each other, but they cheered them on nonetheless, with Thorin throwing out combat advice and Dís calling for her big brother to slay her foul suitor. Finally, with a dramatic cry, Kili’s Goblin King fell over dead.

Dís applauded. “Oh, well done, King Thorin,” she cooed, hugging Fili. “Now, I have a nice, hot stew prepared for the victory feast. Let’s eat before it gets cold!”

The boys cheered and ran to the kitchen, appetites whetted by the ferocious battle they’d fought. Thorin smirked and bowed to his sister. “After you, my queen.”

She smiled and took his arm, head held high with all the dignity expected of an Heir of Durin.

XXX

After Fili and Kili had been settled into bed, having been bribed with warm milk and an extra story, Dís and Thorin sat by the fire and enjoyed a rare moment of peace; Thorin smoking his pipe while Dís repaired a hole in an old pair of trousers.

“I never did thank you, you know,” Dís said, slyly glancing over at her brother.

He paused mid-puff. “For what?”

“For saving me from the terrible Goblin King.”

Their eyes met before the two siblings broke into laughter, half-heartedly attempting to muffle the sound for fear of awakening the sleeping dwarflings.

“You’re very welcome,” he replied, still snickering. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, though. You always did have a knack for getting into trouble.”

“In case you didn’t notice, I managed to wipe out quite a few goblin warriors on my own, thank you very much,” she shot back smugly. “And I’m quite certain that I would have managed to escape, even without your interference.”

“I’m sure you would have,” he replied. “But you have to admit that I did a fine job storming the stronghold.”

She smiled. “True enough, but don’t let it go to your head.”

They let the silence embrace them for a moment before Dís chose to break it again. “Do you think what the boys said is true?”

“What, that a Goblin might want to marry you? I’d like to think even goblins have standards.”

She didn’t even bother smacking him; she’d get him back later. “I mean that people are referring to me as your queen.”

He frowned. He knew what she was implying. He had never officially taken the title of King, but most of the dwarves still considered him such, given how he’d unhesitatingly accepted all the royal duties after the devestating battle for Moria. He had no real issue with that; if his people needed a king, he’d fill the role, kingdom or no kingdom. But he didn’t like what it implied for his sister. He’d had no real interest in taking a queen, as he was often too busy with fixing every problem that came his way to worry about courting some high-born dwarf lass and producing an heir. So that duty had fallen to Dís, and while he could not be prouder of his nephews, he knew that since her husband’s death, ugly rumors had formed.

He and Dís had always been close, and had only grown closer as the years passed. The loss of Erebor, as well as the passing of not only her husband, but their brother, father, and grandfather had only strengthened their bond. Living with her and helping her raise Fili and Kili was not only practical, but pretty much expected of him. Most of the dwarves saw no problem with this; the Line of Durin had lost so much that it was understandable that they’d be close.

But occasionally, when he went to the tavern with Balin and Dwalin, he heard the sickening thoughts of dwarves deep into their cups. Made bold from drink, they’d make foul accusations as to the relationship between brother and sister. They’d question whether there was another reason Thorin had been so quick to move in with Dís, or why he hasn’t taken a wife of his own. These rumors angered him, but typically Balin and Dwalin would help keep his temper in check. Of course, there were always exceptions, like the time he’d had one especially soused dwarf walk right up to him and asked if his heirs were really his nephews, or something closer. That had started a brawl that got him banned from the tavern for a month, though at least the owner had understood as to why the normally composed Thorin Oakenshield had been so quick to throw a punch. The ban had really just been in place to allow the other patrons time to forget about the incident. Despite this, he never informed Dís of any of it. She had enough troubles; she didn’t need to add despicable rumors to that list.

He puffed on his pipe for a moment longer than usual, trying to find the words. “I suppose it’s possible, though the boys probably just misunderstood what Bofur meant,” he said carefully.

She frowned. “Thorin, do not mistake me for a fool. I know that there are those who question our relationship.”

He nearly dropped his pipe. “Where did you…?”

“Women gossip sober almost as much as men do drunk.” A small smirk came to her lips. “I may have also bullied Dwalin into telling me why you were banned from the tavern two months ago.”

Thorin cursed under his breath. Screw it, he wasn’t going to warn his friend of Dís’ wrath after all.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, it’s not his fault. I’d already overhead the owner talking about it with some of the merchants; I just wanted Dwalin to confirm it.”

Sighing, Thorin rubbed his temples. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t feel like it was something you should worry about. You have enough responsibilities as is.”

“And you don’t?” she snapped. “Brother dearest, in case you haven’t noticed, you take on every little problem that comes your way, whether you’re too busy to handle it or not. If there’s an argument between two merchants, you insist on mediating it. If there’s a new order from the forge, you insist on inspecting every blade, even though there are plenty of dwarves who can do that for you. If wargs are spotted within twenty miles of us, you have to lead the hunting party. If the elders are complaining, you try to appease them, even if it’s something so minor it’s not even worth acknowledging!”

Running his hand through his thick mane, he gave her a frustrated glare. “Our people come first, Dís. I can’t ignore their problems just because they’re small. Who will solve them if not me?”

“There are others who are willing to help, Thorin. You’re just too stubborn to accept it!” she growled, putting her sewing aside. “Dwalin is more than capable of leading the hunting parties. Balin is one of the most diplomatic dwarves I’ve ever met. Gloin could certainly handle the shipping orders if you’d let him, and the boys are old enough now that they don’t need me to watch over them every minute of every day.” She took a moment to regain her composure. Honestly, her brother was so frustrating! “Part of being a good leader is recognizing when you’ve taken on too much. Delegation is an important skill to have. There are plenty of good dwarves who would be happy to handle of some of your concerns.”

His glare lessened but didn’t vanish completely. “That may be, but I couldn’t force you to take on my duties. You do enough for me.”

“You’re not forcing me to do anything. Besides, I’ve already been doing them.” She smiled a bit at the way his bushy eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. “I told you, the boys don’t need to be constantly watched over. I have lots of free time while Balin and Oín tutor them.”

Thorin was at a loss for words. Should he be enraged by his sister’s disregard of his authority? Relieved? Proud? Should he even be surprised?

Standing up, Dís grasped Thorin’s face, forcing him to look her in the eye. “Now, you’re going to listen to me, brother, and you’re going to do as I say. You’re going to let the others help you with your duties. You’re going to stop taking on more than you can handle. You’re going to ignore all those fools who don’t know what they speak of—yes, I’m talking about both the council and the drunken louts in the tavern.” Her voice softened as she released his face and began to gently stroke his brow. “You’re a great leader, Thorin, and a good king. Your people look up to you, and you know they’d do anything for you. Set aside the weight of your kingdom and take some time for yourself for a few hours every day.”

Silenced reigned as he carefully considered his sister’s words. Looking into her eyes, he finally smiled. “Our.”

“Hmm?”

“Our people. They’re as much yours as they are mine.”

Her own smile was warm and genuine, with just a hint of relief. “So, you accept that I’ll be helping you fulfill your duties, whether you like it or not?”

Though he made a show of being annoyed, he couldn’t hide the way his shoulders relaxed. “Do I really have a choice?”

She laughed and returned to her seat beside him, resuming her sewing. “Certainly not.”

Taking another puff of his pipe, something dawned on him. “Do the others know you’ve been attending to some of my duties?”

“Of course. I’ve been mediating trade disputes in the market for months now, among other things. Why?”

He chuckled. “Then it all makes sense.”

“What, the fact that you’ve actually managed to get home while your supper was hot three times this week?”

“Well, that too.” He reached over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I was talking about how people have been referring to you as my queen.”

She glanced up from her sewing. “Oh?”

“Ever since we settled here you’ve been doing the duties of a queen. Settling disputes, helping our people rebuild, establishing trade routes, even continuing the Line of Durin.” He shook his head in amusement. “You’ve been queen for as long as I’ve been king.” He felt a surprising amount of relief at the realization. Drunken fools may have been taking their relationship the wrong way, but the rest of their people obviously understood. Their king would likely never marry. He was too busy attempting to lead them and turn their settlement into a place they could proudly call home. But he didn’t need a wife, because they already had a queen, one he trusted more than anyone else to help shoulder his burdens. One with the strength to tell him when he was being stubborn and foolish, who didn’t wait for his leave to take matters into her own hands. For a moment, he wondered if she would have been so well-respected if they had stayed in Erebor. She’d certainly be a princess, but he doubted their people would be able to see her in quite the same light. She’d earned her unofficial title through hard work, sweat, and pure dwarven stubbornness.

He smiled. It had been a few years since he had thought of ruling Erebor, since he’d often had more pressing things on his mind. But now he wondered what would happen if he took back their ancestral home. He’d be King Under the Mountain, as was always his right, but he was certain that even if he reclaimed it tomorrow and lived a long life in luxury, he’d still never take a wife. After all, he already had the perfect queen and two lively heirs; what more could he need?

With that decided, he turned to Dís. “I think I like the idea of you as queen. Do you think you could handle things the next time the elder council complains?”

She leaned against him and raised her eyebrow. “I’ve dealt with Fili and Kili their whole lives. A bunch of stuffy nobles would be like walking through wildflowers.”

Imagining the council cowering before his little sister, Thorin suppressed a chuckle, though he did allow his smile to broaden. “Good to know. I’ll inform them that any further complaints they have will be handled by the Queen of the Blue Mountains.”

Dís paused a moment, considering. “You’re not worried that people will talk?”

Thorin thought for a minute, then shook his head. “My dearest sister, we’re royalty; if there is one thing that is true in every kingdom, it’s that one of the people’s greatest pleasures is gossiping about us.”

So the King and Queen talked long into the night, discussing everything from political matters, to Fili and Kili’s antics, to their own childhood in the golden halls of Erebor. And when Thorin went to bed that night, he slept easy and deep, knowing that in the morning he’d have fewer troubles than before, as his queen and sister would be by his side, helping him rule their people.

The End


End file.
